middaeg | Aguril Catch-All Prompts (open and closed)

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Aguril Catch-All Prompts (open and closed)

Who: Soren and the Aefengang (that's you guys....)
When: Anytime in Aguril
Where: your heart's desire.... or wherever the prompt designates
What: Open and closed prompts for events and quests and whatever strikes our mutual fancies. Prompts are in the comments.
Warnings: Minor blood. Mimes. Will add warnings as/if they come.

If you would like to plot a custom starter for your character, feel free to hit me up at

wingything or my CR plotting meme comment! I absolutely love tailoring threads for just one character. Feel free to create your own starter in the comments below if there is something different you have in mind (wildcard option??).

➤ Red-String Strung Along. Soren and some poor shmuck (your character) discover that they are ~destined to be~ via the red string spell that went haywire. Original prompt can be found here.

➤ Match Made. Two prompt flavors: help Soren try to find mates for difficult customers, or get paired up with him for a complimentary date instead and see if you can get him to say yes. Quest page can be referenced here under the part-timer quest titled Match Made.

➤ Forget-Me-Nots. Two prompt flavors: Soren experiences pleasant memories while picking flowers, and then there's the option where one of those flower-loving foxes bites him, causing him to accidentally poke himself on the toxic thorns. Quest page can be referenced here.

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[ Soren follows the red trail that the miscast spell has divined will lead to his one and only with stern irritation nestled into his brow. Whoever turns up on the end of the line cannot possibly be the one meant for him, he has decided. That person isn't even tied to this world right now.

Either way, he is out to end this farce right now. After either a short while or taking great pains to locate who destiny has in store for him, who does he find, but... ]

[ Soren approaches your character with a modest sheaf of bios, which are all different from the ones you've got. He looks mildly troubled or miffed as he extracts one of the sheets from his pile. He may say any one of the three things (depending on which problem you want). ]

You wouldn't happen to have another so-called "Fae enthusiast" in your collection there, would you? I have a candidate who will only date anyone who is as passionate about the subject as he is.

[ or ] Hmm... This one might be a little tricky. I'm hoping to find a match for one feisty, independent, and choosy turnskin woman. She's broken off seven Bonds with witches already because none of them 'understood' her. She's not looking for anyone too clingy, aloof, energetic, melancholy, cowardly, reckless, or... allergic to cat fur, it would appear. Among other highly specific qualities she hates. None of my other candidates seem like a good fit for her. What have you got?

[ or ] I have a mime. Do you have anyone who might be willing to date a mime.

[ Don't think the organizer hasn't noticed you working so well with Soren! Of course, "working well" could be defined as loosely as managing to sustain a more involved conversation with him, even if it is about the job itself. That just means you have good chemistry, right?

That's why you're now being asked if the two of you wouldn't like to go on a date tonight... on the house! Wherever you'd like, completely free. It's just that, it warms their heart to see ~~soren cooperating with someone~~ you two hitting it off so well, and... ]

Excuse me?

[ Soren may look a little offended, if not a bit embarrassed at the insinuation. ]

[ This task isn't tricky to anyone careful enough to mind the brambles above the flowers, and it's easy enough to stoop down low where that would hardly become an issue. As the dragon works at plucking seed pods close to the ground, the blooms caress his cheek, rub against his hair, drift beneath his nose. Even if they weren't touching him, their uplifting scent would have still reached him.

A rare smile sweetens his face as he works, casting a complete contrast to his usual coldness with the warmth that accompanies it like a pleasant song that makes the job less of one. He looks far more approachable this way, even gentle or compassionate. What could be on his mind? Interrupt his daydreams? Hopefully with a question, and not some kind of accident or anything disastrous like that. ]

[ As Soren loses himself to the irresistible fold of his nicest memories, he fails to notice that one of the tiny foxes has taken an interest to his long tail, which shifted teasingly along the grass. It pounces with a jawful of teeth and a bite force completely unexpected for a vulpine of its size. The dragon jolts up and around with a scream. ]

Ahh!

[ ...And ended up accidentally scratching one of his body parts. Wing, arm, leg, face... Fate is in the hands of the next tag. Soren growls and whips his tail to fling the feisty fox off (watch out, fellow quest-taker!). ]

[ Iramaat is fortunate in that she and Soren actually do get along well enough, so she can handle him (and he tolerates her or something approaching it). So its not a total surprise when she gets praised for "working well" with him. It's a little more surprising when it's suggested they go on a date. She blinks and then she shoots Soren a beaming grin and threads her arm through his before he can object. ]

Oh, I think that would be lovely.

[ She isn't going to let Soren say "no". ]

Come on, Soren, it'll be fun. [ And, you know, that time in the Underground was kinda still on her mind. ]

[It was truly fate's hand at work today.

This wasn't the first of those troublesome strings to have graced the Ascian's hand, and it's another one that he regards with a most general displeasure. Fortunately he was already out and about somewhere in the city when he noticed its manifestation, but does he do anything to find his other half?

No. That would entail more walking around and more effort than Emet-Selch could rightfully be bothered with. But what is he more willing to do? That would be sitting (practically sprawling) on a bench. He's pretty rude about it too, being right in the middle of it, arms stretched along the back, making it clear no one else was welcome to join him. This bench was for him and for him alone.

Staring half at the sky, expression bored, idle, detached- he only loosely pays any notice of those people milling around. Only enough to notice when one seems to take notice of him. Almost as if--

Ah. The thread told the tale. But this time it involved a stranger.

Emet-Selch regards Soren with as much regard as he would any other apparent human- which is to say, not much at all. His voice is a low, casual rumble, waving lightly at him with his threaded hand.]

And so your fortune has led yourself to me. A blessing unfathomable, wouldn't you agree?

[He has no idea who this is.]

[ great pains indeed, for the one at the other end of the red string of fate was no other than . . . another black dragon. the other black dragon. by musk and scale alone, it’s eren.

except he’s literally yanking at the current string attached to his finger like he’s wrangling a bull and when soren comes pummeling through— he ceases, staring back with little to no movement in him until he attempts a slow moving wave; of reptilian recognition. ]

Sorry.

[Enkidu just reads all the bios with utmost care. After all, they have to match humans with another human and a beast with a witch. This requires intense knowledge of humanity and they might have come to the right ~~clay~~ person.]

What is a mime? Is that some beast I haven't seen yet?

[They smile a little.]

Will you describe one to me?

[Still lake, nestled glassy and lifeless in a snow-cloaked wilderness, a landscape that almost seems frozen by time itself. Not even the breeze whispers by to breathe any life in the dead of this wintry place. It's cold enough, devoid of life enough, to remind Soren of a Tellius where men and women everywhere were turned to stone. Quiet. Peaceful. Unnatural.

Like any job or mission, Soren never goes without first equipping himself with information gathered beforehand. Bundled up in enchanted layers to combat his exothermic challenges, he surveys the surface of the waters, a keen sense of foreboding creeping into the pit of his stomach that he's sure he's not just imagining.]

Deceived by the man she loved, plunged to her death in these waters by him, then forsaken in death for another girl... Quite a chilling tale we have here.

[The air almost seems to drop ten degrees after saying that... The dragon shivers and heightens his awareness with searching eyes, ready to act at any moment. He lowers his voice.]

Do you feel that?

[It's cold, and he's pretty sure no winter he's ever been in even compares. At least there's a plus side to having so much fur. He doesn't need to bundle up quite as much as Soren does.

Even if his instincts are driving him to think that falling asleep in a cave somewhere is a great idea. Time to ignore that and push right along.

The story of this woman reminds him of something, there's a tragedy that goes like that, isn't there?]

... Got colder. [His voice matches Soren's softness.]

[Unfortunately for the both of them, Soren knows more about the looming ~~manspreading~~ figure before him than even a common stranger would feel secure comprehending. This may well be betrayed by the swift and soft collapse of his composure into shock as a brief chill arrests the space within his ribcage. His catlike pupils constrict, the spines at the tip of his twitching tail fan out as though in defense.

Destiny indeed. His Bonded's enemy. But now that their ties have been severed by the whims of Talam's hold on its outworlder guests, nothing lies contrary between them. Nothing to worry about. Two parties, completely neutral, at best tentative allies in the sense that they're both outsiders who come from the mirrors.

It's not that Soren has secrets to guard any longer, is not a potential pawn to be risked should the architect of the Exarch's world's demise ever catch onto their alliance. Nevertheless, he still has cause to be on guard about an immortal being who previously wielded enough power and likely still harbors a healthy disregard for countless lives to accomplish such sacrifice on the scale of entire empires, of many worlds to the pyre of his agenda. It has little to do with Soren now, but a character that sinister cannot be trusted.

Then again, Soren has never been generous with his trust to begin with. Even knowing nothing of him, he'd be wary.

The way he speaks, almost like he's toying with him... Does he know who he was to the Exarch? Or is that just a grating facet of his personality, like he'd seen in the Exarch's memory?

The small black dragon hardens that chink of surprise and relaxes only halfway, hoping the blame for his startle could be laid somewhere more casual. A tension still tightens his shoulders. He speaks with a cold and level distance.]

I can fathom that is it the work of a spell cast by hopeful amateurs, and nothing we need contemplate any further. Let's just snap this fraudulent connection and be done with each other.

[It goes without saying that the unnatural plunge in their environment could easily be attributed to the supernatural. Not even Soren, gifted even before his shift into dragonhood with higher perception than the average "human", can ascertain exactly what is going on or where the ghost might be... and that makes it all the more chilling. He shivers to himself and inches closer to the turnskin, as though meaning to protect him should something happen. He whispers.]

She's really here. Watch yourself, Juza. We don't know the full extent of what she's capable of.

[They can't fight her, nor can they do anything to exorcise her spirit. The wilders only told Soren that she can be spoken to, and that anyone who has tried has been met with ~~psychic damage~~ mysterious injuries, temporary deafness, and/or a rattled disposition upon coming home empty-handed. He has not been informed as to the nature of their attempts at conversation, or even what the ghost could possibly be pacified by that they could even give her. The wind finally stirs, inspiring the branches of the nearby firs to claw at the air, stirring snowflakes and ice to sparkle in dusty flurries. A shrieking, plangent peal erupts into the air that causes Soren to clutch his ears in defense, followed by sound of wretched, heartbroken sobbing. Lines of cuts appear on the dragon's cheek as his head jerks, like he'd been slapped by an invisible rake. An unearthly, disembodied voice howls at them, swirling around them. A gauzy, intangible form catches his eye, but he cannot hold onto for very long before it vanishes from sight.]

Don't you dear speak of it! Of us! Of HIM... How would you like it if I started prying in YOUR deeply disturbing affairs?

[That's a lot, is the first stupid, honest though that comes through his head. It really feels like one of those climactic scenes that begins a final battle- except it's very real and they're very stuck here until they manage to get their goal and leave.

With the... woman(?) screaming at them, the idea of trying to tend to Soren's wound is put off for a moment.]

Do... you want to?

[How does ghost etiquette work? He's not going to those classes, if they even exist. But she was the one who brought it up first. Maybe it's some sort of fairness thing?]

[The air goes silent for a spell. Then, laughter bubbles, the tone of her voice from on high colored amused, taken off-guard by his invitation.]

Who on earth... who asks that? Who would willingly...

[Soren nurses his stinging cheek with the back of his sleeve, far more concerned with the change in her disposition that Juza caused than such a minor injury. He searches the sky for a glimpse of her again, but it's futile, and his sights toggle from Juza to empty, glittering space. What is she going to do now?

A prickling sensation runs down the back of Juza's neck, right at the base of his skull.]

Fine then, young bear. Let me ask you...

[So that means she's probably nearby- or behind him, because that's definitely a new and weird feeling he's never had to deal with before.]

What is the source of your self loathing?

[Juza startles, was it that obvious? That's the kind of thing that doesn't come up unless he starts it. Or maybe this is just the kind of magic this woman has. The ability to know things about those who approach her.

The chill grows greater and he has a harder time thinking the answer through. It almost feels like claws against his neck the longer he takes to answer.

Does he know that? He knows how much self-loathing he carries, but what started it?

The memory of that bully who tripped down the stairs, the way after that people started giving him even more space. Nobody approached him for years and years. He isolated himself from his cousin, he didn't want his bad reputation rubbing off on him.]

... Lonely.

I was lonely. I don't.... know how to talk to people- or approach them. Thought it would be better if nobody knew me 'cause I had a bad reputation. People kept pickin' fights and I didn't want my family gettin' involved in my crap. [It's uncomfortable to be this honest when it's not in the context of a performance. When it's not about trying to convince people that he can really act. Even then, that was a regret. The biggest regret in his life, but it was still a singular regret. He never had to get to the heart of this issue.] People deserve better than me.

[Acting is a time where he gets to set himself aside and he gets to live out the fantasy that he's anyone else. Hero, villain, it doesn't matter, as long as Juza has a moment where he doesn't have to be Juza.]

[Self-loathing...? Soren watches Juza falter before her inquiry. It must be true if her question rattles him so. As he struggles to find his reply, he, too, feels almost as though he's being choked in his own way. He has no idea how to help him in this moment.

Then he begins to explain, and the longer he goes into the reason he hates himself, the more pained the dragon becomes. He got the sense that there was something lonely about him before, back when Juza intervened in the fights other monsters were trying to start with him Underground, but he never had that confirmed quite like this. Having to review this harsh aspect of his growing up clearly upsets Juza. And to hear him admit that 'people deserve better than me'...? It snaps Soren into refuting him.]

So nobody understood you. So nobody bothered to try. So it forced you into a lonely existence. So what? No, those kinds of people deserve less than you, Juza.

[He speaks with firm conviction, the passion that comes from having been somewhere like that before. A completely different world, a completely different reason and set of circumstances that left him rejected and alone, but full of the same truths. It's abundantly clear that Soren's hurt by the idea that Juza feels any reason to think so little of himself, his face strained as it is while he looks up at him.]

And I hope that you learn that soon. Because... ...I like you.

Edited 2020-08-19 00:15 (UTC)

An honest one.

[The cold tightness wrapping around his neck finally pull away. The Lady seems more than satisfied with his answer.

He tries to believe when people say that about him. His little brother sounds like that, rejecting everyone who didn't see the good in Juza. It's... so strange to hear it from somebody besides Kumon.

A small warmth blossoms in his chest. It doesn't completely chase the cold away, but he does appreciate it- Soren likes him? He can't imagine why. There are always going to be better people around than him, but he's going to appreciate it while it lasts.]

... Thank you. For believing in me. [Even if there's a huge part of him that thinks that's entirely misplaced.]

[A grating, charming facet of his personality to be sure, the Ascian's manner remaining quietly smug, casually superior as though his very existence of being himself gave him this right.

But this stranger's reaction to him also gets a raised eyebrow. There were irritable sorts, and there were skeptical sorts, and there were rude sorts, and Soren's reaction encompassed and surpassed all of them. And there was something more to it too, an edge of surprise that he had a hard time explaining, and Emet-Selch had no clue what the cause of it might be. Had he given him some reason for offense in the past without realizing? Perhaps the man was just insulted by this whole process of a thread deciding romantic potentials for him.

It's not as though the Ascian liked it either, but he also didn't take it seriously.]

And so you would challenge fate so casually... but very well.

[He sighs, giving a slow shake of his head, as though disappointed at Soren's failure to appreciate the opportunities spread out dramatically before him. Opportunities like... being condescended to, comparisons to vermin, disease, or insects. Things like that. Or if he's very fortunate, generalized misery and pessimism.

Emet-Selch toys with the string as he speaks, tugging idly at it between his fingers. A toy, just like the person it was attached to.]

I have no idea who you are, and I care nothing for your existence. I can go into more detail if you like.

[Soren's faith in him is not nearly as warranted as the likes of his little brother, given only a few windows where he could peer into what kind of person he was. But even this, the way the smile he shows him rises from the heart... it supports the feeling that backs his opinion. Juza may not be the most eloquent, nor the most well-mannered or approachable, but neither is Soren, and he has no reason to base his self-esteem on the insecurities and failings of others.

Soren's eyes widen and reflect more light at the warm turn of his lips. It basks a chilly part of his chest in a tender sentiment he can barely handle, but has been much-needed and feels good all the same. His own smile in return is delicate, defying the red streaks athwart his cheeks.]

...I've only known you for a few months, all things considered. But in spite of that, I can already see that you are a good person with little reason to hate himself. You're earnest, you stand by those who mean something to you, and you're willing to work hard to improve yourself. You... remind me in many big and small ways of my best friend when he was younger. He was full of self-doubt like you are, but even then, he was the best man I knew. The only one I feel secure enough to place my complete trust in. [He averts his eyes to the snow below, self-conscious the longer he prattles on shamelessly like this, uncharacteristically pouring himself for someone else. It must be the mood between them that makes for the perfect catalyst of open vulnerability.] Perhaps that is why... I've warmed up to you so astonishingly quickly.

[He never warms up to others like that.]

Would you have grown fond of him that quickly if your friend were here to curb your desperation?

[Soren's face falls. Then, it grows bitter, a little bit cold and forlorn. It's none of her business. But if he shuns her, he will only pique her fury. He folds his arms to himself and sighs.]

...Probably not. No, I doubt I would have been so receptive. I'd been hurting. ...Lonely. He's no replacement for Ike and never will be, but being around him... I felt an ease I don't normally feel around most people.

[Oh, to be looked down upon by his fated and called an animal or a plague...! How it would take him on a trip down memory lane through a warm and wonderful childhood. A shame that he must miss out. But he doesn't need any more generalized misery and pessimism, either; he's already well-stocked in those departments.]

No need. [He rotates, offers him the cold shoulder.] I also care nothing for your existence.

[The red string would appear to disagree, for it remains perfectly intact, as though that sentiment doesn't actually ring so true after all. He looks down and frowns a little deeper, trying to keep the welling of mild panic at bay. He should have said something else. He doesn't want him privy to his prior connection, if only because it would be inconvenient and annoying to have to deal with him at any further length. He hurries to cover it up.]

Is this spell so broken that it cannot even be broken by the usual means?

[ ...Waver! He finds Waver. Looking absolutely baffled and glaring between the string around his finger and Soren with mounting annoyance. ]

Really?

[ At least it's someone he knows. ]

[A true pity... how well matched they would be, were fate less inclined to be cruel.

But how cruel it is. The thread remains, which allows a flicker of surprise to cross the Ascian's expression, followed by a quiet hum. There was something to this man's reaction to him after all, he considered- his first response that implied some manner of (negative) recognition. A wariness that wasn't just because he was now attached to a stranger.]

My... it seems destiny has more in store for us than we thought.

[The Ascian continues playing with a bit of slackened red string between his fingers as he regards him. One of them was lying- or at the least, not being wholly forthright. And for once Emet-Selch knew that it wasn't himself to blame, twisting the truth so that some technically correct statement could come across in any way he chose. No, this was a case when he knew that he was the one being entirely honest. He didn't know, nor cared for this man whatsoever.

That the thread remained turns his lazy detachment into a hint of curiosity, attention beginning to take in Soren in more detail, as though attempting to place him somewhere (And in a distant way, something slowly begins to work in the back of the Ascian's mind, though it's a possibility that hasn't reached his conscious thoughts yet. A dragon, with black scales. Unfriendly, unkind.).]

Have we met...? You'll have to forgive me for not making more of a note of it. You humans tend to blend together, after all.

[Not that he has any proof that this man is human, but he has no problem with making assumptions.]

[To be called human again after everything that has twisted his form is actually quite refreshing, however imperiously he was slotted with them. Soren maintains his cold and hardened facade against the curiosity he unintentionally provoked in the immortal. He shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his sable-scaled knuckles as though the skein's knot simply needed sloughing off.]

No. I've merely seen you around. You're quite distinctive. Hard to miss.

[Despite knowing how awry the red-string spell had gone due to the full Sisters' influence, the concept of destiny brushes a chill down his spine, like it might hold any potential right now. Like he can't simply dismiss it, even though he wants to. After all, he has reason to believe there's more to it than a scornful wave of the hand.]

[Unfriendly and cold, and unwilling to indulge in his pleasant (that is, only moderately condescending) banter. What a terrible dragon.]

'Tis only natural that your eye would be drawn in my direction. And while I can't fault your taste... are you so shy as to require a means like this to gather the courage to approach? I don't bite... the unfamiliar, anyway.

[What a reassuring smile, mocking to the last, though his watchfulness remains. When he deigns to continue it's on a slightly more serious tact.]

But yet you're far less indifferent than you should be to someone you've only seen around. Who am I to you? And who are you for that matter?

[While he was used to people not liking him (any time he brought out his actual personality, that tended to happen), the Ascian generally had a pretty good idea both as to who and why. And yet he'd somehow provoked this dragon's ire and caution without even trying.

Emet-Selch knew he hadn't done anything in this world to warrant more than a bit of irritation, and only at select targets, some of whom weren't even present any longer (like the Exarch). He had no designs on this world, no reason to encourage its ruin. No reason to have obtained any particular grudge from someone who hadn't already possessed one (also like the Exarch).

Had someone warned this man about him? If so, who? And for that matter, why?]

You know I hate fun.

[ Of course she'd fall for this idea... Their Underground romp definitely jumps in his mind when going on a date with her is sprung upon him. He wrestles his arm back weakly, gives her a withering look crumbling with signs of embarrassment, and shoots it at this puca organizer, who shrinks, grips his clipboard and looks very sorry for even asking. ]

It's- It's free, buddy! C'mon, don't look at me like I'm giving you extra work to do... Look; she's a pretty girl! And she's clearly into you!

I know. We're well-acquainted.

[That sure is one way of putting it...]

Then-

[He sets a hand on his hip and just keeps on scowling.] Why is this any of your business?

A-Actually... it... kind of is... my business... just a little?

[Gosh, Soren!!!! He ships you two!!!!!!! That's literally his job: shipping people! Also, you look like you need to unwind.]

[B-Beast... If Soren were the type to laugh or smile more openly, he might have. Instead, he just snorts at the idea of one being categorized in the same slot as 'beast'.]

Maybe they are, if the performing arts scares you. A mime is a performer who uses exaggerated body language to convey stories and ideas to an audience while refraining absolutely from speaking.

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Aguril Catch-All Prompts (open and closed)

Red-String Strung Along [OPEN]

Match Made [OPEN]

Forget-Me-Nots [OPEN]

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Lady in the Lake [CLOSED to Juza]

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perfection

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